I'll count every grain of
Hot cocoa
If that makes the monsters
Run away.
I'll spill every last packet
Onto the lavender carpet,
Add hot water until
It's a gooey brown mess.
I'll call you over
And let you lecture me
Until the sun rises
And greets the day anew.
I'll smile happily
Even if my ears bleed
From your sharpened,
Aggravated words.
And I'll clean up every
Puddle of hot cocoa,
Ensure the carpet is
Sparkling and clean.
And maybe, maybe
Do it again tonight
And maybe, maybe
Burn the whole sack.
Because
Why render myself to sleep if
Those hands only awaken
In the middle of night?
And hot cocoa
Is merely a weapon constructed
To ensure
That monsters really did thrive
At night.
Those damned hands.
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Bittersweet | #Wattys2016
الشعرPoems aren't just meant to be read; they're meant to be tasted too. A short compilation of food-themed poetry; roughly around thirty in total. Anyone ready for their meal of a lifetime? :)
